


For Your Pleasure

by twinkfloyd



Category: King Crimson (Band), Roxy Music (Band)
Genre: Attempted Murder, Gen, Grand theft auto, Kidnapping, cop killing, driving without a licence, slander
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2020-01-12 23:37:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18456959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twinkfloyd/pseuds/twinkfloyd
Summary: plot: andy and eddie go joy riding and crash bryan's car into robert fripp's house, they panic and come up with a harebrained scheme to blame it on john wetton whose alibi is shaky at best as he is busy trying to cover up the fact he's been secretly indulging some of his own private pleasures





	For Your Pleasure

Andy prowled the grounds looking for where he’d set his pack of reeds earlier today, frustrated he’d gone through the trouble of buying some new ones for practice and losing them seemingly immediately. Lifting up papers and notation lying about he exhaled heavily tossing them aside, what a waste. Now he’d have to go back out and get some more if he didn’t want the whole afternoon to be a total waste. Out of the corner of his eye he caught something on the coffee table and reached over picking it up. _A ha._

He plucked the object from out under the sequined jacket it had been hiding under only to produce a small carton of smokes instead, close but no cigar. Looking over his shoulder, he decided to search a little further, slipping a hand inside one of the pockets and closing around what turned out to be a pair of keys. Andy glanced out the window at the El Dorado sitting unattended in the driveway. He’d only be a minute, hardly notice he was ever gone. 

With the ring in his hand, Andy slipped towards the door opening it to run into their bright-eyed newest recruit, Eddie. “Hey Andy, you going somewhere? I thought we were about to rehearse some.” 

“Oh-” he stood in the doorway one hand still on the knob, “I must have forgotten my reeds, I’m just headed to pick up some at the store, do you need any new strings or anything?” 

“Hmm, I don’t think so but can I come along anyways?” the teenager bounced on the balls of his feet eagerly. 

“Mm, alright.” It was probably better to let him come with him if just to keep him quiet and the two of them shut the front door behind them. 

Andy exhaled unlocking the car, Bryan’s shiny new toy as a reward for convincing himself they’d hit the big times and he was a rockstar who not only deserved but needed such luxuries to prove his credibility. Eddie was just about as full of nervous energy. “Wow, you’re gonna let me ride in this?”

“It’s not really _mine_ but here, why don’t you take the driver’s seat?” Andy sat down relaxing an arm on the passenger window. 

“Oh boy! I’ve never driven a car before!” 

“Well this is your lucky day,” Andy dangled the keys in front of Eddie. 

“Really? You mean it?” He graciously took the keys and after a few attempts inserted it into the ignition with a hearty roar (the car). “I’m a little nervous, am I doing it right?”

“Don’t worry about it, it’s just like playing the oboe, you’ll get the hang of it in no time.” 

“Oh. I don’t know how to play an oboe.”

“Well… this is the best way to find out.” 

And Eddie floored the gas, lurching backwards out of the driveway and into his new life. 

 

Despite best efforts, Eddie failed to run anything over, well, anyone. But the important thing was no one got hurt. Well, no one we knew. In one of the quieter moments during their afternoon joy riding, Andy snooped around Bryan’s car, nosy to see just what he kept in here, and half searching to see if he had actually left his pack of reeds in here on the way back from the store the first time around. Poking inside the glove compartment he felt around and furrowed his brows. “What’s this?” 

His fingers fumbled around hitting a switch and suddenly it began to shake vigorously. “AH! It’s alive!” 

“Wha-” Eddie turned his head as Andy threw the vibrator into his lap. “EEK!” he shrieked panicking and swerving all over the road. Just you and me, like an automobile with no one at the wheel, spinning out of control, all over the road, in a sexy machine; the passengers scream. Scream. SCREAM. 

Hurtling down the street, they passed a cop car waiting with baited breath for anyone to screw up or be born. Turning the sirens on he began his pursuit excited to have something to finally jerk off to. 

Andy hearing the slinky sirens wail whoo glanced behind himself sweating bullets, “Oh no! I can’t go back to jail, Eddie step on it!”

He clenched his teeth knuckles white on the wheel, driving was harder than he expected! Tuning the radio to some thematically appropriate rock music, Andy steeled himself for what was guaranteed to be a wild chase. The officer rolled down the window and thrust his head out of it shouting. “OI! Wot’s all this then!?” 

Thinking fast, the older more experienced level headed musician grabbed the vibrator and hurled it at the vehicle behind them. The dildo connected with surprising force and the cop car exploded, Eddie looking over his shoulder in shock as a wave of flame billowed out, the heat singing the split ends of his perm. “EDDIE THE BRAKE THE BRAKE!!!” Opening his mouth to speak, his body was whipped forward as the car collided with something, finally coming to a stop as they crashed through a wall into somebody’s house. 

Dazed, he peeled himself off the steering column gazing around at the devastation. “Uh oh.” 

He shook Andy hissing frantically, “I think we should probably get out of here.”

“What?” he opened his eyes groggily realizing what just happened and his heart sunk into the pit of his stomach, “Oh no. We gotta- we gotta run.” 

“But what about the car-” 

“Forget about the car!” he pulled Eddie out of the seat and bolted away from the scene of the crime as Robert Fripp descended the stairs of his home to find a brand new Chevy El Dorado in his kitchen. 

“Oh no not again. Right into the good china.” 

Sighing he took out a comically small dustpan and brush and began sweeping up the smoldering rubble. “I’m going to find whoever did this, skin them alive then give them a stern talking to.”

He peeked at the license plate number ‘SEX MAN 69’. “Hmm now who could that be...” 

 

Several blocks away Eddie and Andy bent over trying to catch their breath. “That… was… close.” 

“Yeah, I’m sorry about your car…” 

“It’s fine, I was just borrowing it,” Andy panted. 

Eddie’s eyes went wide with realization and he looked back in horror. “...We have to go back.”

“What?” Andy bolted up. 

“I… I forgot my wallet in the driver’s seat, my licence.”

“I thought you didn’t have a licence?”

Tucked between a bus pass and a receipt for 50 pounds worth of soft pretzels was indeed a lifetime membership to Chuck E Cheese belonging to an Edwin Jobson, his beaming face clear as day printed on it. “We have to go back.” He stated severely. 

Andy took him by the shoulders staring intently, “If we go back there we’ll get caught!” 

“If we don’t go back we’ll get caught!” Eddie snapped back, taking off. Andy bit his lip hesitantly but followed after regretting it already. 

“How are we going to get inside without being noticed?” they fretted. Fripp was crouching between the flames, very slowly collecting the shattered remains of a tea cup. 

“Just follow my lead,” Andy grabbed his hand and slipped round the back into the house. Very carefully, they ducked behind potted plants and chairs, periodically pretending to be statues when they felt Fripp was looking with those eyes he stored in the back of his head. He walked past to dump his tray into the bin and the two took their opportunity to make a run for it. 

“It’s not here!” Eddie squeaked feeling his future evaporating away. 

“Don’t panic I’ve got an idea, we just need someone to pin this on,” Andy smacked some sense into him and took a sticky note and a crayon from the counter leaving a clever note before they had to make their escape once more. When Fripp returned to continue his task he noticed something stuck to the driver’s seat and squinted at the piece of paper. 

SORRY I CRASHED THE CAR MATE- love uhhh John Wetton, the bass guy. PS I DID IT ON PURPOSE. XOXOXO

“Hmm... “ he set the note back down. “Well I guess I have to kill him. Pity, I liked the man.” 

 

Meanwhile across town in an undisclosed location, John Wetton was busy furtively indulging in his secret pleasure. 

“I feel kind of bad blaming John for crashing the car,” Eddie moped, “We should have at least asked his permission first before saying he did it.”

“It’s fine, he’s a good guy. He’d understand.” Andy assured him taking the long walk back to the house. 

Bryan arrived home ready to put his feet up after a long day when he noticed his car missing from the driveway. “My car is gone! How will I get home now?!” 

Paul and Phil went outside to see what all the commotion was about to find Bryan sobbing in the rose garden. “What’s wrong Bryan?” 

“My car was stolen and now I can’t go back home!” 

“Bryan, you are home.” 

“Oh… Well, how did I get here?”

Looking up it was in fact his beautiful house, and there, his beautiful Phil. “Here, let’s get you inside and maybe we can talk about it.” They helped him up and took him indoors handing their singer a cup of warm cocoa and a blanket. “Is it possible you just left it somewhere?”

Bryan reached into his tiger striped jacket for a cigarette only to find a box of weird wooden sticks instead which reluctantly he smoked anyways. “No, I know I left it here! Did you see who did it?” 

They shook their heads. “We were here all day with Eddie and Andy practicing, we could ask them.”

“I haven’t seen ‘em in a while,” Paul commented, “They might have left. Maybe they took it out.”

“Oh my god, the burglar man-napped them!” Bryan jumped tossing his blanket to the floor. “We have to rescue them, who knows what kind of suffering they could be in. Are you just going to let them die? Let’s go!” 

 

“It’s unfortunate it should have to come to this but in light of recent events, I hope you understand why I gathered you here today,” Fripp spoke pacing in front of Dave, Bill, and John in the shuttered darkness of his parlor. “I’m afraid we have a _traitor_ in our midsts.”

There was some hushed mumbling and glances exchanged between the three of them, shaken at such an accusation although what with their leader growing increasingly paranoid it wasn’t too terribly out of character. “Mister Wetton, where were you today at fourteen hundred hours?” he stood in front of him expectantly hands neatly folded behind his back. 

“I-” he looked around, “I was at the studio, goin’ over some live reels when you called me.” 

“I did no such thing, if you recall it took me quite some time to actually get a hold of you. Now where were you really?” he leaned in closer. John swallowed hard, sweat beading at his temple. He couldn’t let them know, could he? What exactly was he risking if he didn’t speak, and if he did? 

Narrowing his eyes, Fripp produced the note holding it for him to read. “Do you think this is a game to me? Either explain how you did not crash your automobile into my valuable walls or I will have no other choice than to call for your termination, permanently.”

John winced balling his fists at his sides, “I didn’t do it!”

“I am about to go total beast mode on your ass,” Robert Fripp said very calmly as he prepared to murder him in front of god and everybody. 

“No! No it’s true I was- I was at the Thomas the Tank Engine fan expo, we share our collections, trade cars, read fanfictions, dress up-” “That’s more than I need to know-” “…. I, I didn’t want you all to find out I was a Tankie, not like this.” John hung his head in shame, Fripp’s barely concealed rage simmering as he backed off. 

“How unfortunate. Then I must find whoever attempted to scapegoat you for this incident, them, I shall not exercise such mercy with.” 

 

It was nearing sunset as Andy and Eddie made it back to Bryan’s house without his reeds or anything. “Maybe, maybe we can just borrow another car that looks just like his and boom he’ll never notice it was ever gone.” 

“Eddie, I think we’ve stolen enough cars for one day, I’ll tell you what I’m going to do. I’m going to make myself a cup of tea, sit down, and pretend none of this ever happened. When he sees the car isn’t there, we’ll all act very surprised and suggest someone stole it-”

“Yeah we stole it,” Eddie fretted. 

“No I mean someone else, then he collects the insurance money and we all go on with our lives.” 

“But, but what if someone traces the car back to him-”

“Then it’s not our problem, how unfortunate. Move on-”

“But what about my ID, I never found it. What if they already know!?” 

“You probably didn’t have it on you in the first place but say the robber stole your wallet as well when he took the car.” 

“But we’re the robbers!”

Andy put his hands on his shoulders and looked him in the eye, “No we’re not. That’s the story and we’re sticking to it. Edwin, there’s a lot you’re going to have to say if you’re ever going to make it in this world. Now cheer up, we’re back home, I’ll make you a cup too.” 

The house was empty curiously, as Phil and Paul had said they were going to come by earlier to rehearse and it was unlikely for them to fall through on their word for something as routine as that. It was only when Eddie called from the other room he began to suspect something was up. “Hey Andy, I think you might want to see this.” 

A stack of copies sat on the coffee table, their faces juxtaposed in black and white, a princely sum right beneath. “MISSING: Eddy Jobson, Andy McKay. Reward: £10,000.” “Andy! If we find us, we could use that reward money to buy a new car!” 

“Oh my god Eddie you’re so stupid.” 

 

By random happenstance, the three of them managed to find Bryan’s car- that wasn’t the hard part although he nearly fainted when he saw its condition. “Fripp! How could he do this to me? What does he want!? I’ve- I’ve never done anything to him so why would he take my musicians unless he unless- It’s a trap! I’m the one he really wants!” 

“Wait now calm down here I think you’re jumping to conclusion-”

“Let him go, there’s no turning back now.” 

Crimson’s tete-a-tete was suddenly broken as a hysterical Bryan Ferry threw the door wide open storming into the room. “First my car, and now this!? Where are they Robert, I’m here. I know I’m the one you really want, just let my boys free!” 

“What on Earth- Wait, your car? Is that your car sitting halfway through my crockery downstairs?”

“Huh yeah come to think of it it did look a little familiar,” John mused. 

“Don’t play dumb, you knew whose it was when you used it as your getaway vehicle! Now give them up or I’ll I’ll-” Bryan grabbed John and a poker from the fireplace threatening him and everyone in the room with it. 

“Whoa what the fuck man I thought we were cool?” John struggled. “Nobody stole your car!” 

“Well someone did,” Fripp grimaced, “I don’t know what this other nonsense you’re going on about is. There’s no one here but us and I’m just not that into you.”

“I’ll excuse your slander if what you’re saying is really true- that would mean then, the criminal is still out there! You have to help me find my boys, who knows what horrible thing could have befell them!” 

Back at home Eddie and Andy were watching The Two Ronnies and eating cookie dough out of the package. “Do you think- we should try ‘n call ‘em to let them know we’re okay?” Eddie raised his eyebrows licking the spoon. 

“Nah, we don’t know anything about anything. Now eat your cookie dough and try not to think about it.” 

To this day the El Dorado Killer has yet to be found, his victims, innumerable. It was only by some good fortune that MacKay and Jobson somehow managed to escape with their lives and return home safely. When asked about the incident, the two declined to comment, no doubt traumatised by the event, but it can only be said what must have occurred that fateful day. 

Bryan Ferry eventually went on to own another car and Andy MacKay found his reeds, sitting on the table exactly where he’d left them. Eddie Jobson eventually learned to drive and continues to do so to this day. King Crimson later disbanded and Wetton later moved to Asia after an extended stint in UK. Robert Fripp probably did not kill anyone; he currently lives with his wife, Tonyah, and their son, Willyfred.


End file.
